


Still and discreet

by anthiese



Series: I really should go to sleep instead of making this [8]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - The war never happened, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Pining, yes beta we live- like glenn in this, you KNOW what's going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthiese/pseuds/anthiese
Summary: “How is it?”For such an easy question there had never been a harder answer.-On her wedding day, Ingrid asks Sylvain what he thinks of the dress.
Relationships: Glenn Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea (background), Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: I really should go to sleep instead of making this [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592482
Comments: 11
Kudos: 87
Collections: Bread Eaters, Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	Still and discreet

**Author's Note:**

> Hey little note, if you're reading this please report that fanfic pocket library app. Putting ads on things that are made available for free is disgusting, and they should be ashamed :)
> 
> Moony's prompt for the Felannie server drabble challenge: Valentine's is a day that commiserates both happiness and sadness, remorse and satisfaction in equal measures. Your prompt this week is "lost chances" - regret for a romance that could have been, or was desired (but could never be)
> 
> i needed to write this so bad. i had two more non sad things, but this one possessed me. the others may come sometime this week, as i'm down with a bad cold and stuck at home! in the meantime, enjoy!  
> (thanks to bina for looking this over for me and for the title! love you!)

“Well?” 

Sylvain twisted on the loveseat to face her figure, and the light pouring from the window behind her—so violent he had to blink a few times for the image to readjust. 

The split second in which he didn’t see her felt like the most relieving he’d had all day. 

“How is it?” 

For such an easy question there had never been a harder answer. Ingrid was beautiful, of course; she was beautiful in the way of a noblewoman covered in makeup and dolled up in her best dress, and in the way of any young bride beaming on the day of her wedding, and in the way of Ingrid with her tilted smile with too many teeth, with the curve of her muscles peeping from beneath the lace, with her short hair curling right behind her ears. 

It had been a mess the day before, when they’d gone riding in the early morning, and Ingrid had thrown her head back and laughed loud against the wind, and Sylvain had stared much longer than he should have. 

But today, for Glenn, she’d made sure it was in perfect order. 

It was hard to look at. 

“Careful you don’t sweep too many helpless men off their feet, with your tremendous beauty,” muscle memory replied, his eyes not quite focusing on the dress or her face or anything at all, and Ingrid’s annoyed sigh let him know he hadn’t said enough. 

There was nothing else that would be right to tell her. 

There was his mind wandering back to her laugh and her wide smile as they rode through the fields. When they’d dismounted and laid down among the rotting wildflowers, he’d combed the leaves out of her hair, and with that, too, he’d taken longer than he should have. 

It had lasted too little. 

“I’m asking what you think, Sylvain.” Ingrid insisted. “If you could be genuine with me, for once...” 

He laughed, without putting too much soul into it. “I’m sure you can get better... thoughts, from like, everyone you know. There’s a bunch of stuffy lords and ladies from the capital downstairs, waiting for nothing but for the woman of the day to talk to them and ask for their wise fashion advice.” 

Ingrid’s hands balled up in the heavy skirts, and she rolled her eyes before turning them back to him, wide and dilated like those of a little girl. Like hers as a little girl, when he’d always be by her side, mostly getting rescued by her, and she’d sigh and sigh and he’d do his best to bring her smile back. 

There was still a modicum of fun to be gained from making her serious expression change, even on a day like this. A modicum of pride, in knowing he was still able to. 

“Unless you just want me to flatter you some more.” He went on, raising his eyes to the ceiling and sinking deeper into the seat. Useless, because he could still see the flash of white at the corner of his vision. “Always up for it. All day, all night, until you get tired of me. Until one of you two calls for—” 

“ _Sylvain._ ” 

That caught his attention. He turned back to a pink face, her exasperated smile. 

“Sylvain.” Ingrid repeated, and his name in her voice felt like the most perfect of venoms—dry, the way it had been since childhood, when his jokes had gone on for too long, and yet coated in the deepest fondness, but still not enough. “I value your opinion. You know I do.” 

Her voice was so genuine that Sylvain felt a bout of sickness course through him. It was getting harder to look at her, but chances were it would be harder to look away, now. After all, he’d always been better at lying while looking someone in the eye. 

“Still, you should worry more about Glenn’s, now,” Sylvain told her, rising from the seat and stretching his arms. “Finally getting through with the engagement, after all these years. You shouldn’t waste your time thinking about what a guy like me thinks.” 

Suddenly Ingrid closed the distance, clasping his hands in hers, and suddenly he didn’t feel that good of a liar with her round eyes piercing his. 

“You’re my oldest friend.” 

He knew that. He knew that and it was the one thing he’d always know for certain. He nodded slowly, until Ingrid’s eyes softened, and she let go of his hands. 

“I... I’m just getting married, like we knew I would... A normal part of life. It’s never going to change my feelings for you, Sylvain,” she said, her voice bright, “nor yours for me, I hope.” 

Sylvain forced himself to nod again, and put an easy smile back on his face, despite how dangerously close hers was. 

“Alright, alright, I know... Thank you,” he told her. “You’ll always be my dearest friend, I...” 

“You?” Ingrid questioned. 

He didn’t know what to say next. His gaze dropped down, to the floor, the tip of his boots almost touching the hem of her skirts, then up to the lace that covered her arms, her naked collarbone, her hair combed back, her green eyes... 

“Perfect,” he whispered, lifting his hand to her. 

“Hm?” 

Ingrid tilted her head, but Sylvain didn’t flinch. 

“It’s perfect,” he said again, a finger running up the curve of her cheekbone and over her temple, brushing back a single curl. 

Ingrid stood silent, stunned, until Sylvain met her eyes again, and forced another queasy smile. 

“He won’t be able to take his eyes off of you,” he added. “Glenn won’t.” 

“Thank you.” She said, and Sylvain knew he’d never heard her voice that small. 

“It’s almost time, I think.” He circled her, picked up his cape from the coat rack, and Ingrid didn’t move. “See you out. Better not be late.” 

Silence, save for his heart beating fast in his ears. Silence, save for his boots clicking on the floor as he headed for the door. 

Then he stopped, put a hand on the frame. Nothing to lose. Nothing at all. 

“Remember how I’d tell you I’d carry you away, if you ever wanted?” 

Sylvain heard her turn around, felt her stare on his back. He wondered what expression she was wearing. He wondered if she was wearing any expression at all. 

“The offer is still up, Ingrid.” Silence. “Always for you.” 

He was left wondering, because the bride didn’t make a sound as he walked out of her chambers. 


End file.
